Through Alien Eyes

Two

The alarm beeped insistently. Ukatonen slowly opened his eyes and rolled over, his skin a pale, cloudy yellow. It was time to get up. Time for another day of fussing over that inadequate garden, one more day of forcing his brain to learn more human sound speech. It all seemed so meaningless. He reached a long arm out and fumbled with the clock until it stopped beeping, then tossed the thing across the room, and rolled over and went back to sleep, grateful that Moki was spending the night in Eerin’s cabin.

“En?” It was Moki. “Wake up, en, it’s past noon, en.”

“I’m tired, Moki. Go away.”

“But, en, you’ve been asleep since right after dinner last night.”

“And I’m not ready to get up yet,” Ukatonen replied. “Go away and let me rest.” He pulled the covers up over his head and went back to sleep. He barely heard the door hiss shut as Moki left the room.

“Ukatonen?” Eerin said. “I brought you some soup, en. You should eat. Please, en, wake up and eat something.”

Ukatonen hauled himself upright and took the steaming bowl of hot soup. Soup was one of the humans’ better inventions. It made him feel warm, and the steam of it eased his tortured sinuses. He drank it down, slurping up the noodles.

“Thank you,” he said, handing Eerin the bowl and sliding under the covers again.

“It’s my pleasure, en,” Eerin told him. “Would you like the doctor to come and look at you.”

“I’m not sick,” Ukatonen told her. “I’m just tired. I don’t want to get up.”

“Forgive me, en, but I think it’s more than that. I think you’re depressed.”

Ukatonen shrugged and looked away. “I’m tired of being too dry and too cold. I’m tired of everyone shoving words into my ears. I’m tired of making do with that tiny garden. I’ve been pushing myself ever since we left Tiangi. We’ll be arriving at Earth in another couple of weeks. I need some time to rest before then.”

“All right, en,” Eerin said. “But Moki’s been worrying over you all day. I’m worried that he’s fretting himself into a decline.”

“He’s your bami, Eerin. Link with him. Cheer him up.”

“Yes, en,” she said. “I will leave you to rest.” She picked up the bowl, and the door slid shut behind her as she left.

Ukatonen’s eyes slid closed again. It was good to rest, here in this warm, dark room where he could pretend that he was safe on Tiangi again. He would get up when he was ready, and not before.

The door hissed shut behind Juna as she emerged from Ukatonen’s cabin, a worried look on her face.

“How is Ukatonen, Dr. Saari?” Commander Sussman asked. She had been waiting outside the cabin with Bruce and Don and Jennifer.

“He’s no better,” Juna told them. “And Moki’s been worrying himself into a frazzle over the last week.” She looked up at the commander. “He feels responsible for Ukatonen’s depression. If it wasn’t for him, Ukatonen wouldn’t be here.” She shook her head. “I’m glad we’re docking in two more days. They’ve got to get off the ship.”

“Juna,” Commander Sussman said, “I just got word that the Survey intends to quarantine the ship and all its crew until we can prove that the Tendu do not pose a threat.” The commander looked furious.

Juna swore in Amharic. “Why are they doing this? No one on board ship has been ill. Dr. Caisson’s only had to bandage a few scrapes, and set one broken arm.” She slumped against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I know,” the commander said. “Louise tells me that this is one of the most boring trips she’s ever been on. There haven’t even been any colds.”

“When will they let us out?” Jennifer asked.

The commander’s expression was bleak. “They’re not saying.”

“This is crazy!” Juna protested. “They’ve known we were coming for over two months. Why are they pulling this now?”

“I don’t know, Juna,” the commander replied.

“Ukatonen’s almost stopped eating, and Moki’s losing weight as well. I’m worried that the Tendu are going to die while the Survey bureaucracy sits on its hands. This is no way to treat the first alien envoys to Earth!”

“It’s also no way to treat the rest of the crew,” the commander declared. “Everyone wants to go home. The Survey hasn’t even let our families know that we’ve arrived.”

Juna felt her own despair welling up inside her. She was aching to see her family.

“So what do we do?” she asked, looking up. “How do we convince the Survey to release us from quarantine?”

“Perhaps after we dock, Moki and Ukatonen can convince the Survey that they don’t pose a threat,” the commander suggested.

“Commander, Ukatonen is so depressed he can barely move and Moki’s not much better. We have no way to prove that this is a psychosomatic illness.”

“It will be hard,” Commander Sussman admitted, “but Dr. Caisson says she’ll do everything in her power to break this quarantine. Louise used to be a researcher for the Center for Contagious Diseases. Hopefully she can convince them that Moki and Ukatonen aren’t a danger to humans. At least they’ll be allowing us to contact our families once we’ve docked. There will be a lot of security on the link out,” she cautioned. “You may find your calls disrupted if you breach security.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Juna said. “The chance to talk to my family means a lot to me.” Tears pricked at the backs of her eyelids as she thought about seeing her father, her aunt, and her brother again, even over a secured comm unit.

“I wish I could take credit for it,” the commander said. “It’s a concession to the crew. The Survey wants to keep the union out of this mess.” She caught herself. “I’m going to do everything possible to fight this quarantine.”

“I know you will, Commander, and thank you.”

“I only wish I had better news, Juna. I promise you that I’m going to fight this as hard as I can. But if the Tendu don’t show some signs of improvement. …” The commander left the rest unsaid.

“I’ll do what I can,” Juna assured her.

Juna managed to get Ukatonen and Moki out of bed to watch the docking. They sat in the observation lounge and watched the looming space station draw closer. There was a sudden jarring, and a deep rumble as the ship’s docking probes linked with the station’s. Then there was a queasy moment as the ship’s gravity matched that of the station’s.

“Well, we’re here,” Juna announced.

Moki’s ears spread wide, then drooped, Ukatonen glanced up briefly, then returned to studying the floor.

A few minutes later, Juna was summoned to the captain’s conference room.

“I think you should come with me,” she told the Tendu. “It’s probably about the quarantine.”

Moki took her hand. They waited while Ukatonen got up with agonizing slowness and shuffled along with them to the meeting. He looked old, Juna thought. Old and sick and tired. The last Tendu she had seen who looked this frail had been Ilto, just before he killed himself. She closed her eyes in pain, and pushed the memory away.

Commander Sussman and Dr. Caisson were sitting with three e-suited figures around the conference table. She rose as they came in.

“Dr. Saari, thank you for coming,” she said. “This is Dr. Daniel Nyere, head epidemiologist of the Center for Contagious Diseases; Chief Officer Gabriella Martinez, the administrator in charge of Broumas Station; and Ambassador-General Iago Joven, the United Planets ambassador at large.”

Juna nodded to each of the anonymous, white-suited figures. They had rolled out some impressive brass for the occasion. The fluorescent lighting made it difficult to see their faces through their faceplates.

“This is Ukatonen, an enkar of the Three Rivers Council of the Tendu, here on behalf of his people, and this is my adopted son, Moki,” Juna told them.

The white suits nodded at the Tendu, and the Tendu nodded back.

“Dr. Saari, could you please enlighten us as to the nature of the Tendu’s illness?” one of them asked.

“I am suffering from a malady that we refer to as greensickness,” Ukatonen said.

“I see, and is it contagious?”

“It is what you call psychosomatic. I am out of harmony with the world. I’ve spent too long on this ship, out of touch with the natural world. It has made me sick. Releasing us from quarantine will help us recover,” Ukatonen explained.

Exhausted by the effort of making this speech, the enkar slumped back in his chair. Moki touched his arm, ears spread wide, ochre with concern.

“What has Dr. Caisson found?” Dr. Nyere asked Commander Sussman.

“Louise?” the Commander prompted.

Dr. Caisson rose to speak. “I’ve found nothing. No detectable viruses, no antibodies, and their intestinal flora have not infected any of our test animals. Commander Sussman has included a copy of my report in your briefing folder. I believe you’ll find I’ve been quite thorough.”

“We’ll want to check her results and run some tests of our own,” Nyere told Sussman.

“Of course, Dr. Nyere,” Commander Sussman agreed. “How soon do you think you can finish your tests?”

“We should have some preliminary results in about four days, and our final results in a week.”

“And the quarantine? I have a ship full of people who all want to get home as soon as possible. And there’s the health of the Tendu to be considered as well.”

“We’re not sure when the quarantine will be lifted,” Ambassador Joven told the commander. “I’m afraid that it’s out of our hands.”

“Then whose hands is it in?” Juna inquired. “There’s absolutely no evidence that the Tendu are contagious. No human on board this ship has died or gotten sick. Meanwhile, the first representatives of an alien race ever to visit Earth are growing weaker and more depressed with each passing day. If you keep them cooped up in this ship much longer, Ukatonen may die. What are you proposing to do about this?”

“We’ll do what we can,” Ambassador Joven assured her. “I understand your concerns, Dr. Saari, but we have to take into account the safety of the entire human race.”

“But— ” Juna began. Ukatonen laid a hand on her wrist.

“Ambassador Joven, before coming here, Moki and I agreed to abide by your Alien Contact Protocols. Neither of us would injure a human. We bring nothing but goodwill and a desire for harmony between our two people. How can I convince you that we mean no harm?”

“I appreciate your position, Mr. Ukatonen,” Ambassador Joven said. “I will pass along what you have said to my superiors. I’m sure they will take your expression of friendship and goodwill into consideration.”

That, Juna thought, was one of the most hollow reassurances she’d ever heard.

“Ambassador Joven,” she asked, “who is in charge of lifting the quarantine?”

“That will be a joint decision between the Center for Contagious Diseases and the Interstellar Survey Department, with input from the Department of Defense.”

“I see. Thank you, Ambassador Joven,” Juna said. These officials had no real authority to free them. She looked down at the bland grey plasteel table, fighting back her anger and frustration.

When the meeting let out, Juna and the others accompanied the e-suited officials to the airlock.

’Thank you for coming,” Commander Sussman said as she shook hands. “On behalf of the entire crew, I urge you to lift this quarantine as soon as possible. Not only do we all want to go home, but we’re also concerned about the Tendu.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Commander,” Ambassador Joven said. “Dr. Saari, Mr. Ukatonen, Moki, Dr. Caisson, it’s been very nice meeting you. We’ll be publicly announcing your arrival in a few more hours. After that, you will be able to contact your families.”

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Juna said, her eyes stinging with tears of longing.

The airlock opened, and Juna found herself peering into it, straining for a glimpse of the outside, though she knew that all there was to see was the closed and locked door to the outside. She looked around and saw that the others were doing the same. Then the inner door swung closed. Juna heard a heavy clunk as the locks were dogged home, the hiss of evacuating air, and the rush of water, as the decontamination cycle started on the other side of the airlock.

“Well,” she said, feeling the sound of the closing door settle like a weight on her soul. “Let’s go sit in the garden until I can call my family.”

Ukatonen, Eerin, and Moki settled themselves in the midst of the circle of sunflowers and bean vines that the gardeners had planted especially for the Tendu. The sunflowers were more than two meters high, with huge, platelike leaves. The bean vines, growing up the sun-flowers’ sturdy stems surrounded them with a curtain of living foliage.

Ukatonen lay flat on his stomach, barely aware of the others. His eyes were closed and his nose brushed the lower leaves of a bean vine, inhaling the scents of earth and growing plants in an attempt to feed the starving place inside. He longed for the wet warmth of the jungles of Tiangi, for the rich, familiar smells of thousands of different plants, animals, and insects growing, breeding, and being eaten by each other. The smell of the rain forest was rich with the smell of life. The smell of this tame garden was as thin and empty as the humans’ clear cold tap water.

The emptiness inside Ukatonen had grown until there was no room for food or pleasure, and barely room for allu-a. He felt like a seed rattling around inside a sun-bleached gourd. In a strong wind he would crumple up and blow away, but there weren’t even any breezes here, only an endless sameness surrounded by a universe full of nothing at all. Even this tiny scrap of a garden couldn’t rescue him from the sterile monotony that had overtaken his spirit. He felt as though he was about to fade away entirely. His eyes slid shut, and he slipped back into the welcome oblivion of sleep.

Juna sat down at her comm unit, her mouth dry with fear. She glanced down at Moki. What if her family didn’t like him? She had left Ukatonen sleeping in the garden. This introduction would be complicated enough. They could meet Ukatonen later. She smoothed her hands against her pant legs, took a sip of water, and punched in the comm address for her father’s house.

The round, pleasant face of her aunt Anetta appeared on the screen, “Hello, Ad Astra Vin— Oh!” Anetta’s blue eyes widened in amazement as she recognized Juna.

“Hei, Netta-Tati, olen palatal”

“Oh, my god! Oh, my god! It’s Juna!” Anetta exclaimed. She started to run away, then stopped and turned back to the comm screen. “I’ll go let everyone know you’re here!”

Juna felt giddy with joy at seeing Aunt Netta again. She squeezed Moki’s shoulder, wishing she could link with him, and share the full intensity of her joy.

Then her nephew, Danan, was there. “Juna-Tdti\ Juna-Tdtil You’re back!”

“//ei, Danan,” she began, then saw her father striding into the comm’s viewfield. “Isi!”

He looked older, his face more creased, his hair whiter than she remembered, but healthy and happy. “Hei, tytar” he said, throwing an arm around Danan’s shoulders, drawing him closer as he sat down to speak with her. “You look almost like a teenager again,” her father teased. “I expected you to look like— ” He broke off awkwardly, not wanting to bring up her transformation.

“Ukatonen changed me back again,” Juna told him. “You’ll meet him later.” She drew Moki into the comm’s viewfield. “This is Moki, Isi, he’s my adopted son.”

“Hello,” Moki said. “It’s good to meet you.” A flicker of pale orange nervousness forked like lightning down the bami’s back. Juna touched him lightly, reassuringly, on the shoulder.

Her father looked from Juna to Moki and back again for a long moment. Juna’s heart caught in her throat. She should have waited, should have broken the news more gently…

Then her father’s seamed face broke into a wide smile. “Hei, tyttarenpoika. Welcome to the family. Puhutteko suomea?”

Sudden relief brought tears. Her father had just referred to Moki as his grandson. He was willing to accept him as part of the family.

Moki looked up at her, purple with puzzlement.

“He wants to know if you speak Finnish,” she translated, wiping away the tears.

Moki’s ears lifted, and he shook his head.

“Well, then,” her father said, “we’ll teach you.”

“When are you coming home?” Danan asked.

“First they have to let us out of quarantine. I don’t know when they’ll do that,” she told them, shaking her head. “They’re worried about the Tendu. Ukatonen and Moki aren’t well, but it’s more like a case of severe homesickness. There really isn’t any reason to keep us here. The Tendu don’t have anything contagious, and none of the humans have been sick.” The security telltale at the top of her screen was blinking, warning her that her words were being cut off.

“Juna? Can you hear us?” her father asked. “Is everything all right?”

Juna pressed the Acknowledge key and the security telltale stopped blinking. “I’m sorry, Isi— there was a problem with the comm at my end. Can you hear me?”

Her family nodded.

“Hopefully, they’ll let us out in a few days. So, tell me, how is everyone?” Juna asked, steering the conversation away from dangerous ground.

Anetta, Danan, and her father fell all over themselves telling her the news. Juna’s fame had brought reporters to the vineyard. The subsequent coverage had increased interest in the winery, and sales were booming, helped by several extremely good years.

“We bought another ten hectares just spinward of Toivo’s place, and we’ve still got enough in the bank to send Danan to the best college in the system!” her father told her proudly.

Juna smiled. There had been so many years of struggle; at last the family was prosperous.

“And Toivo? How is he?”

A shadow crossed her father’s face. “Not so good, dear. He tried to kill himself last March. We stopped him, but he moved to one of those zero-gee colonies a few months later.”

Juna glanced at Danan, who was looking stony and determined. Clearly he missed his father very much.

“You talk to him, dear. Maybe you can get him to come back,” her aunt told her.

Tears welled up in Juna’s eyes. “I’ll try, Netta, I’ll try.”

“Harvest starts next month. I hope you can make it,” her father said. “We can’t wait to see you and your little one. What was his name again?”

“Moki, Isi, his name is Moki,” Juna reminded him.

“Bring Moki, and the other one.” Juna heard the question in his voice.

“Ukatonen, Isi”

“Bring Ukatonen, too, but most importantly, bring yourself.” Her father reached out and touched the viewscreen. “We’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ll come, Isukki” she said. “We’ll all come. Thank you.” She reached out and touched her father’s fingers on the screen. “We’ll come as soon as we can. Good-bye.”

Juna’s eyes were brimming with tears as she broke the connection. Her father, Anetta, and Danan were all right, and they were looking forward to meeting the Tendu. But there was still Toivo to worry about. She wiped her tears of joy away and keyed in the comm address for him with a heavy heart.

The comm rang several times, followed by the familiar ascending chime that signaled a recorded message. Toivo’s face appeared on the screen. He looked at least a decade older than Juna remembered; his face seemed thinner, more haggard, tired and cynical.

His message was ordinary enough, but his voice sounded harsh and bitter. A descending chime prompted her to record her own message.

“Hello, brother,” she said in Amharic, which had been their private language since their time together in a refugee camp. “I’m back. I heard about the accident and I want to talk to you about it. Danan, Father, and Netta send their love. They want you to come back. I want to see you too. Please come for a few days at least.”

Juna turned off the comm program, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Moki touched her shoulder. She looked up at him. He held out his arms in the wordless gesture for linking.

“We should find Ukatonen first,” Juna said.

“He’s probably still in the garden,” Moki told her.

“Let’s go check on him.”

They found the enkar sleeping in the garden. They sat in the sunflower circle, and watched him sleep.

“Moki, what are we going to do about Ukatonen?”

“I don’t know, siti. What can we do?”

Juna shook her head, feeling the crushing weight of responsibility on her shoulders. “I wish I knew, bai. I wish I knew.”

Moki wandered the corridors of the ship. It was two hours before first watch, and the ship was quiet. Worry woke him, and the desire to think through his worries kept him awake. He entered the dimly lit garden, crept into the living shelter of beans and sunflowers, and curled up there to think.

Ukatonen was getting worse. He moved as slowly as a morra during the few hours of the day he managed to stay awake. Coaxing and time in the garden did nothing to bring the enkar back to life. If only they could get off this ship, and go to Eerin’s family. Eerin had told him that there were trees there, some big enough to climb. He closed his eyes and thought wistfully of the huge rain forest giants he had lived in. You could go all the way from the seashore to the mountains without ever touching the ground. He missed hunting, missed the smell of green in his nostrils, and the shimmer of birdsong and animal calls in his ears so loud and constant that it was almost as palpable as the trees themselves, and the warm breezes heavy with moisture after a rainfall…

He sat up, shaking his head irritably. He was getting as bad as Ukatonen, and if that happened he would be no help at all.

Juna buttoned up her dress uniform jacket. It had been a hell of a week. Morale was declining and tempers were getting short. A fistfight broke out in the galley. There were several incidents of drunkenness severe enough to warrant confining the offenders to quarters. One belligerent drunk had to be locked up in the brig. The Tendu weren’t the only ones suffering from their confinement.

Juna looked herself over in the mirror. She was being especially careful of her appearance these days. Looking slovenly would only add to the morale problems aboard ship. She tucked a stray tuft of hair behind one ear, picked up her files, and set off for the weekly staff meeting.

Commander Sussman looked tired. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. “I’m sorry to report that there has been no change in our quarantine status,” she said. “My sources tell me there’s a huge debate raging among the Survey hierarchy about what to do with the Tendu. I have a feeling they’re going to keep us in quarantine until they reach a consensus.”

“That could be a life sentence!” Dr. Caisson protested.

“I know,” the commander said. “I’ve filed protests with the Survey and with the union, but I doubt it’ll do any good.”

“We’re going to start running out of supplies soon,” Lieutenant Murphy warned.

Commander Sussman nodded. “I’ll speak to Chief Officer Martinez about resupplying the ship from Broumas Station.”

“We’re also running low on fresh vegetables,” Murphy added. “We’re planting fresh stuff as fast as we can, but it’ll be at least six weeks before the new crops will be ready to eat. We hadn’t planned on needing produce after we arrived.”

The commander rubbed her forehead. “I’ll see if there’s anything Chief Officer Martinez can do about that as well.”

“I’ve already had to patch up three or four people who’ve been fighting. I don’t know how much longer the crew is going to be able to take this,” Dr. Caisson said.

“We all want to get off this ship,” Commander Sussman said sharply, then looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Louise, I just got word that my mother’s had another stroke. They’re not sure how much longer she has left.

“The union says that they’re fighting the quarantine, but they can’t override Survey security. Now, is there any more urgent business?” the commander asked, returning to her usual brisk tone of command.

There were no replies.

“I suggest that you keep the crew as busy as possible; it’ll help keep them out of trouble. I know how hard this is on all of you, and I appreciate everything you’re doing to keep up the crew’s morale. I want to assure you once more that I’m doing everything in my power to lift the quarantine. Thank you.”

With that, the meeting broke up. Juna waited until the staff officers had all expressed their sympathy to the commander for her mother’s illness.

“Commander Sussman,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The commander shook her head. “You could figure out a way to get us off this ship,” she replied with a wry smile.

“I’ll work on it, Commander,” Juna said.

Ukatonen sat in the garden. Finding the strength to get out of bed had taken all his will power. But being here was no better than being in the cabin. The cold and lifeless ship still surrounded him. There was no escaping it, not even in the shelter of his own mind. Even with his eyes closed in the midst of the garden, the dryness, the plastic and metal and sweaty human smell of it filled his nostrils. The deep bone-throbbing hum of the life-support system and the rush of the air in the ventilators clamored in his ears and under his feet.

It was all too much for him to carry any longer. It was time to let go. Slowly, painfully, he got up. He needed to find Moki and tell him of his decision.

“He’s done what?” Juna exclaimed, when Moki told her what the enkar had done.

“He’s gone to sleep until they let us out of here,” Moki repeated. “I’ll be feeding him through my spurs.”

“Where is he?” Juna demanded. How could he leave her alone to cope with all of this?

“In the garden, siti. In the middle of the sunflowers.”

“Take me there,” Juna said.

Ukatonen was lying curled in the center of the sunflower circle, covered by a thin layer of dead leaves. Crouching beside him, Juna brushed the leaves away from his face. His color was good but his breathing and pulse were very slow.

“En? En? Wake up, en!” Eerin said, gently shaking his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Ukatonen’s eyes slid open. “There is nothing more that I can do to help, so I am going to go to sleep now,” he said in skin speech. “Moki knows how to take care of me. He’ll feed me and make sure that I don’t dry out. Do not worry. I will be perfectly safe. Wake me when we get out of quarantine.”

With that, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed as he slipped back into unconsciousness. Juna sat back on her heels, furious at Ukatonen for abandoning her.

Moki hesitantly touched her elbow. “What do we do now, ski?”

“We need to tell Commander Sussman, and I want Dr. Caisson to examine him.”

“But he’s not sick,” Moki said. “He’s just gone to sleep for a while.”

“It doesn’t matter, bai. Commander Sussman will want the doctor to look at him anyway.”

Dr. Caisson folded her probe and put it in her pocket. “He’s unconscious. His heart rate and breathing are extremely slow but otherwise strong and regular. If he were human, I’d say he was in a very deep sleep, possibly even a coma. I’d like to attach him to a monitor, if I may. I have a portable one that will work out here.”

Juna nodded. “Of course, Doctor. Is he going to be all right?”

“I don’t know what’s normal for his species,” Dr. Caisson said uncertainly. “It sounds like a voluntary state, though, and you said the little one isn’t worried. We can only hope that we get out of quarantine soon, and that this state doesn’t cause him any permanent damage.”

“I’ll have to report this to the officials in charge of the quarantine,” Commander Sussman said. “It’s bound to affect our chances of getting out of here. I only wish I knew whether it will affect them for better or worse.”

Juna sat slumped in her desk chair with the lights dimmed, thinking things over. Her family had once had an old irrigation pump that seized up at the slightest provocation. Juna, who had been in charge of irrigating the section served by that pump, had to kick the pump until it ground into motion again.

The Survey still refused to explain or clarify the reasons the ship was in quarantine. Now Ukatonen had retreated into hibernation. The situation was well and truly stuck. The question was where and how to deliver a good swift kick to get things moving:

She couldn’t do much imprisoned on the ship. She needed to find someone outside who could get things unstuck for her, someone who could do the serious digging needed to ferret out the people behind the Survey’s ruling, and someone with the clout to expose what was going on.

She turned on the computer and set to work.

“Bruce, do you know anyone on the ship who can help me get around the security system on the comm channel?” Juna asked.

Bruce rolled over onto his side, and looked down at her, his face pale and moonlike in the darkness.

“Juna, are you crazy? You could flush your whole career out the airlock trying a stunt like that.”

“I’m the only one that Ukatonen and Moki will work with. The Survey can’t fire me.” Juna sat up in bed. “Going through official channels hasn’t gotten us out of this situation. If the Survey won’t listen when we ask them politely, it’s time to get in their face. It’s time to do an end run around the bureaucracy. The Tendu are headline news, but people are only hearing what the Survey chooses to release. We need to get our side of the story out.”

“It’s risky, Juna,” Bruce warned. “This whole thing could blow up in our faces.”

“The Survey could sit on us for years if we let them,” she pointed out.

“I know a computer tech who might be able to help,” Bruce admitted.

“Thank you,” Juna said.

Bruce shrugged. “I was planning on quitting after this trip. I’ve nearly made my nest egg and the Survey is no place for people who want to raise a family.”

Juna looked down. Her own marriage hadn’t survived the long Survey missions. The worst part about coming home again was realizing how much she envied her brother and the big, wonderful family he had married into. It was impossible, of course. She had the entire future of Tendu-Human relations resting on her shoulders. There was simply no time for any more family than she already had.

She kissed Bruce gently on the cheek. “I hope that whoever you settle down with brings you happiness,” she told him.

Bruce enfolded one of her hands in his. “Thank you, Juna. That means a lot to me.”

Juna smiled despite the sudden stab of longing in her heart. “I’m glad,” she said. “I should go. Moki’s waiting for me.”

“I’ll let you know if I find someone willing to help,” Bruce told her.

Juna nodded her thanks as she started to dress, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat. She dressed quickly, fleeing the hungers that Bruce had stirred up. In the safe privacy of her cabin, she threw herself down on the bed and gave in to pent-up tears of loneliness.

A soft touch on her shoulder interrupted her. It was Moki. Wiping her eyes, Juna sat up.

“What’s the matter, siti?” Moki asked.

Juna forced a thin smile. “I’m just tired, bai.”

Moki sat beside her on the bed and held out his spurs. They linked. Juna relaxed in the bami’s gentle presence. She might never have children of her own, but she had Moki. She floated in Mold’s love and caring, letting her own love for him rise up and flow out of her until they drifted in a dark, silent pool of warmth and safety. The two of them rested there, savoring the harmony of allu-a for a while, before emerging from the link. Juna opened her eyes and sat up. Her pain and loneliness had been eased for the moment, though she knew it would return again.

’Thank you, Moki. I feel much better.”

He touched her arm. “What is the matter, siti? This is a human sadness; allu-a cannot wash it away. Please explain it to me.”

“Oh, bai,” Juna said, taking Moki’s slender hands in hers, “you are a good bami, but this is an old sadness. Nothing can be done about it.”

“Please tell me what it is anyway, siti.”

Juna closed her eyes and rubbed her face with her hands.

“Sometimes— ” She paused, unsure of how to go on. “Sometimes I wish I was married and had family and a child of my own. It has nothing to do with you, Moki, please understand that. In fact you make things easier, because in so many ways you fill the need I have for a child. I was married once, to a nice family, but it didn’t last. I was away too much. Eventually, they divorced me.”

She sighed sadly, remembering how lost and alone she had felt then. Her father had taken her back, had been glad to see her. She had moped around the house, avoiding Toivo, who was surrounded by his happy family and bursting with pride over his newborn son, Danan. As soon as she could, Juna fled back into space. Two years later, the pain had diminished, and she spent most of her next leave getting to know Danan, who was a boisterous toddler. Toivo’s family, busy with two more youngsters and a new spouse, was grateful to Juna for looking after him. Her six months of leave had been over too quickly. Danan cried when she left, and, much to her surprise, had flung himself into her arms with a joyful bellow when she returned two and a half years later. He showed her over the whole farm, his treasures, and his hiding places. It was like being a child again. She had missed him keenly during her years away.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and have a baby?” Moki asked.

“A human baby isn’t like a Tendu bami,” Juna explained. “They’re completely helpless. They need constant supervision and care for the first several years of their lives. It’s very difficult to do alone. You need people to help you. That’s why we have families. Besides, I can’t have a baby all by myself. I need to have sex with someone to get pregnant.”

“You’re having sex with Bruce. Is he going to make you pregnant?”

Juna wasn’t in the mood to discuss complex issues like contraception and population control. “No,” she said. “I’ve taken steps to keep from getting pregnant. Actually, I’m much more worried about getting off this ship and going home again. I’m sad that I don’t have a baby, but I’ll get over it. I always have before. I appreciate your worrying about it, but this is not a problem you need to solve.”

“Forgive me, siti,” Moki said, deepening to brown in shame, his delicate, fanlike ears drooping.

“Oh, Moki,” Juna said, putting her arm around him, “it’s all right. You were trying to help, and you have. Thank you, bai.”

Moki brightened at her praise.

“I have some work to do now. Why don’t you check on Ukatonen?”

Obedient as always, Moki left her to her work. Juna smiled a little sadly. He was more independent than a human child. Sometimes she wished that he needed her more. He slipped out of her grasp like a breeze floating out through an open window.

Juna sighed and woke her computer. She scanned the jjewsnet files, downloading all the articles she could find on the Tendu. The popular response to the Tendu was divided into two camps. There was the fear camp, which immediately began trying to determine what kind of a threat the Tendu posed. And there was the somewhat smaller, but no less avid, awe camp, which spoke of how the Tendu had come to heal the human race, and exalted them as noble savages. Several of the gushier articles gave Juna the giggles; the rest just made her feel vaguely queasy.

A small group of net reporters held the middle ground, dispensing informative and objective articles about the Tendu. They were, most of them, cautiously optimistic, but were waiting for further details.

Among the latter group of reporters, Analin Goudrian’s work stood out. She had a deeper insight than most of the other journalists, and the glimmerings of a sense of humor filtered through the objective prose. She seemed genuinely interested and curious about the Tendu for themselves, not in terms of what they meant to humanity. Juna created a file of her stories to look through the next morning, shut down the computer, and went to bed.

The next morning, before breakfast, she read through Goudrian’s story file, then downloaded as much background material as she could about the reporter. Goudrian was in her thirties, only four years younger than Juna. Juna could not help smiling back at the slender, dark-haired reporter’s photograph. She was from the Nederlands, in northern Europe, which was a good sign. Juna had always admired the Dutch people’s history of tolerance. Goudrian had been a stringer for WorldNet for six years. Before that, she’d had several vastly different jobs, ranging from Ecorps worker to tour guide to net gofer. She had graduated from the University of Amsterdam with advanced degrees in anthropology and cultural preservation. That explained a great deal. Anthropologists, unlike the Alien Contact people, actually got some practice in their discipline.

Juna realized that she had made up her mind. She copied out the background information on Goudrian and headed off for a well-earned breakfast.

“How’s it going?” Bruce asked.

“I’m about ready to contact someone,” Juna said.

“I’ll let my friend know,” Bruce told her.

After breakfast, Juna found Moki sitting beside the pile of moist leaves that concealed Ukatonen’s sleeping form. She told the bami about her plans, and showed him her file on the reporter. Moki read it over, his skin a pensive dark blue.

“What do you think, bai?” she said when he was done reading.

Moki studied Goudrian’s photograph carefully. “She looks like a nice human, siti. But you are my sitik. You must find the best way to get us off this ship.”

Juna squatted down beside the bami. “I know, but this is risky. I could get us quarantined here forever by contacting this woman. I have only a little control over what kind of story she chooses to tell, and even less control over whether this works.” She glanced down at Ukato-nen’s leaf-shrouded form. “I wish Ukatonen was awake.”

Moki laid a hand on her arm. “What is making you hesitate, siti?”

Juna sighed. “I don’t want to make things worse. I don’t want to fail.”

“It is your decision, siti,” Moki said. “But I think there is little you can do to make this situation worse.”

“I know, bai,” Juna replied with a rueful smile. “I know.” She stood, brushing a few stray leaves off her uniform. “You’re right. Things can’t get much worse than this,” she said with sudden resolve. “I’ll do it as soon as Bruce can get us a comm line out.”

“It’s all right to go ahead and call your aunt Analin,” Bruce told her two mornings later at breakfast.

“But— ” Juna began, then realized what he was saying. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Do I have to do anything special?”

“No, my friend fixed it so that the security system cuts out when you talk to her. Just get us all off of this ship.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Juna promised, her stomach tightening. She managed to force down a couple more bites of her breakfast roll, then grabbed a glass of juice and headed for her cabin. Moki followed her.

Juna sat down at the computer, turned it on, and before she lost her nerve, typed in Analin Goudrian’s comm code. Moki, sensing his sitik’s nervousness, brushed her shoulder and rippled encouragement at her.

She sat there while the comm rang.

It was answered by a video. A message in Dutch, and then in Standard, said: “Greetings, this is Analin Goudrian, I can’t answer the comm now, please leave a message.” Juna noticed that she pronounced her name “Howdrian” with a soft H sound rather than a hard G.

“Hello, Ms. Goudrian? This is Dr. Juna Saari.”

“Dr. Saari, please hold while I page Ms. Goudrian,” the comm told her. “She would prefer to speak with you directly.”

Analin was awakened by a priority-one page. Someone in the headlines wanted to speak *with her. She forced herself out of bed and stumbled to the comm unit, raking her fingers through her hair. Her eyes widened and she swore incredulously in Dutch when she saw the caller’s name blinking on the comm screen.

She sat down, took a deep breath and let it out, and told the comm to open a link to her caller.

“Hello, Dr. Saari. It’s good to meet you. I’m afraid you caught me at the tail end of a nap,” she said. Dr. Saari looked much younger than she had expected, but the face peering over the explorer’s shoulder was undeniably that of an alien, so this was no hoax.

Analin’s face creased in a broad smile of wonder. “Or perhaps I am still dreaming. Is that a Tendu looking over your shoulder?”

“This is my adopted son, Moki,” Dr. Saari said. Despite her dark skin, Dr. Saari had a faint Scandinavian accent, and Analin remembered that her father was Finnish.

“I’m pleased and honored to meet you, Moki,” Analin said to the alien. The alien was smaller than she’d anticipated, fine-boned and spidery, like one of those long-armed monkeys in the zoo. “Congratulations on your release from quarantine. I had not heard— ”

“We’re still on board the Homa Darabi Maru. The quarantine has not been lifted. Officially we’re not supposed to be talking to you,” Dr. Saari said. She peered over her shoulder as though afraid of being overheard.

A surge of excitement tightened Analin’s throat. This was a major story. “I see. Then we should get right to the point. To what do I owe the honor of this phone call?”

Dr. Saari began to explain, and after a couple of sentences Analin stopped her. “This is important. Have I your permission to record this conversation? It will be kept confidential, unless you agree to its release.”

Dr. Saari nodded, and Analin pressed the Record, and the little microphone telltale began blinking in the upper left-hand corner.

Dr. Saari explained their dilemma, with Moki occasionally adding a detail or an observation. The reporter listened with growing excitement, so caught up in the story that she forgot to ask questions. The Survey was holding the entire crew of a starship prisoner, on the increasingly flimsy excuse that the Tendu represented a health threat. According to Juna Saari, the quarantine was slowly killing the Tendu. Who was behind this quarantine? And more importantly, could she find independent proof of Dr. Saari’s claims?

“All right,” she said when Dr. Saari had finished. “What do you want me to do?”

Juna Saari shrugged her shoulders. “I was hoping that some publicity would force the Survey to let us go.”

Analin kept her face neutral. Dr. Saari clearly had not dealt much with politics or politicians. But then, she was a Survey researcher. She had spent most of her life on the frontiers of known space. Why should she know? And clearly no one in the Survey was lifting a finger to help her. Analin suddenly felt very angry.

“Dr. Saari— Juna— what you’re proposing to do is very risky. You understand that, yes?”

Dr. Saari nodded. She looked scared, but then she was risking her career, her reputation, everything, by making this call.

“Why did you call me?” Analin asked. “There are reporters who have given the Tendu much more positive coverage.”

Dr. Saari rolled her eyes. “Most of it was pretty awful. The other journalists were reporting what they wanted to be true. You reported only what you knew to be true. That’s what made me think I could trust you.”

Analin glanced down in sudden embarrassment. “Thank you, I’ll have to work pretty hard to live up to your impression of my work.”

“Then you will help us?” Moki said. He turned the most remarkable shade of blue. It was almost magical, watching his skin change color like that.

“Of course I’ll help you. It’s a very important story, Moki. I’m lucky that you asked me to tell it.”

She looked at Juna Saari. “The trick will be finding proof to back up your claims. Let me do a little digging, and see what I can find out. Can you call me back in about twelve hours?”

Juna nodded.

“Good,” Goudrian said. “I’ll want an exclusive follow-up interview after you’re released from quarantine. Will that be all right?”

“Of course.”

“And can you get me a copy of the medical officer’s report on the Tendu?”

“I’ll download that now. Is there anything else you can think of?”

“Not yet,” Analin said. “But probably later, after I know more. Thank you, Dr. Saari, for trusting me with this. I’ll do my best to find out who’s behind this.”

Dr. Saari nodded. “I appreciate that, and so does Moki.”

Analin nodded and signed off. She sat back, feeling limp and tired. This was the story of the year, and a total stranger had just handed it to her on a plate. She got up, shaking her head, and headed for the shower. She had a lot of work to do.

Juna glanced at the clock on the screen before signing off. They had talked for over two hours! No wonder she was so tired. She stood up and stretched. What she needed was a good hot bath to soak out all the kinks in her muscles.

“I’m going to take a bath in the osento,” she told Moki. “Would you like to join me?”

“I think I’ll go to the garden instead,” Moki said. “Giselle needs some help planting out a crop of lettuce transplants and I need to check on Ukatonen.” He laid a reassuring hand on her arm. “I liked the reporter, siti. I think we can trust her.”

Juna felt some of the tension leave her. “Thank you, bai.”

Mold’s skin flared turquoise with pleasure at the implied compliment. “Let’s link after lunch.”

“Thank you, Moki, I’d like that,” Juna said. She brushed his shoulder with her knuckles, and went off to the baths.

She let herself drift in the warm water, thinking over the morning’s conversation. Suddenly her head bumped up against something. She opened her eyes. It was Bruce.

“Hello there,” she said with a smile. “Are the baths closed for maintenance?”

“No, should they be?”

Juna turned in the water, stood up, and kissed him in answer.

“Yes, I think the baths do need a little maintenance,” Bruce said. “I’ll go put the sign out.” He pulled her hips close against his and kissed her again. “Be back in a minute.”

Juna waited in the quiet steamy dusk of the baths. With so few people aboard ship, the baths weren’t very crowded, and it had become the custom to close them off for couples during the quiet midmorning and midafternoon hours. She had been pleased to find the osento open and empty, and even more pleased that Bruce had joined her.

Bruce slipped back into the water. Juna pushed off and met him in the middle of the bath.

“I ran into Moki in the garden. He told me you were in here,” Bruce said as she slid into his arms.

“I see. So this isn’t just a coincidence, then.”

“Not really, no.”

“Good.” Juna said, and kissed him. They slid down, letting the dark, warm water embrace them.

Afterwards, they floated side by side.

“How did your conversation go?” Bruce asked.

“She wanted to do some research. I’m supposed to call her back tonight.” Juna paused, staring up at the dark ceiling, thinking over her conversation with the reporter. “I like her, but I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if I can trust her. I don’t know if she’s on our side, and even if she is, I don’t know if this scheme is going to work.”

Bruce smoothed his hand along her back. “Juna, the Survey’s going to keep us here until hell freezes over. Yes, what you’re doing is risky, but doing nothing’s far worse.”

Juna let out a deep breath, letting the water close over her. She lay in the water, feeling her heart beat. It reminded her of allu-a, and it comforted her. She surfaced, letting the water skim her mane of dark, frizzy hair away from her face. It was getting long enough to be unruly. She needed to get it cut.

“I hope I’ve done the right thing,” Juna said. “If I were an enkar, and this blew up in my face, I’d be honor-bound to kill myself.”

“Then I’m glad you’re not an enkar.”

“So am I,” she said. “So am I.”

Analin emerged from the shower, fixed herself a pot of strong coffee, and set to work. She dug through story files and declassified archive reports on the Tendu, assembling a more complete history of the aliens. The deeper she dug, the less sense the quarantine made. There was no health-related evidence to support the quarantine. The only deaths on Tiangi were the members of Juna’s Survey team. According to Dr. Saari’s report, they had died of anaphylactic shock from inhaling airborne alien proteins when their suit filters failed. Despite extensive testing by both Survey teams, there had been no cross-infection of Earth organisms by Tendu pathogens or parasites.

Analin leaned back in her chair, and frowned at the computer screen. So what was the real reason behind this quarantine? She got up and fixed herself breakfast, and then started making some phone calls. Her first call was to her best contact within the Survey, an old friend from college.

“Per! How are you?” Analin said, when she finally got through to him. She let the string of pleasantries and reminiscences run on for a few minutes. It really was good to catch up with Per.

Then Analin pounced.

“Per, according to the official news, the Tendu are in quarantine pending a medical examination to determine whether they are carriers of any contagious diseases. But I’ve heard from a reliable source that there’s no scientific basis for those concerns. Apparently the Survey is holding the Tendu and the crew of the Homa Darabi Maru prisoner for political reasons. What do you know about this?”

Per’s eyes widened at the question. Analin exulted inwardly; she had struck a nerve. “Where did you hear a thing like that?” he asked, after a silence that was too long to be innocent, yet not quite long enough to be overtly suspicious.

“Let’s just say that the source was reputable enough to make it worth checking out. I thought that perhaps you might know who could shed a little light on the situation.”

Per smiled. “You should contact our Public Information Bureau for information on that, Analin. Here, let me give you their comm number.” He typed it onto the screen and Analin dutifully copied the number into her address book. Meanwhile, Per was rubbing the left side of his nose, a code that indicated he would contact her later, on an unmonitored line. He had her anonymous-source address, so the whole transaction would stay off the official record.

They chatted pleasantly for a few more moments. Per invited her over to see his vegetable garden. The tomatoes in his greenhouse were really big. Then he signed off.

Analin poured another cup of coffee. Per hated tomatoes, and didn’t garden, so the news he had for her had to be really important. She made a few more calls, while waiting for Per’s message, but most of her other sources either professed to know nothing at all, or simply didn’t speak to her. That was odd. Usually they would at least speculate a little. Someone had told them not to talk about the Tendu or the quarantine. But who? And more importantly, why?

She paced through her tiny, cluttered apartment, waiting for the message from Per to come in. What the hell was going on? She was about to call the Survey’s Information Bureau, just to get their official version, when Per’s message arrived.

“There’s some serious power behind the quarantine. Even the head office is running ^scared. The rumor is that someone is using the CCD to keep the Tendu bottled up on that ship, but you didn’t hear this from me.” He spoke hastily, as though afraid that he was going to be overheard. “Be careful, ’Lin,” he said as he reached forward to end the message.

Analin pushed back from the comm and stared at the blank screen. Per knew she could take care of herself, so he was warning her that this could be serious. She should move someplace safe before she did any more digging. Despite her caution, a frisson of excitement fluttered in her stomach. She bustled around her apartment, packing.

Into one large trunk she carefully packed all the keepsakes and records that she didn’t want anyone to destroy or read. She threw her travel clothes into a backpack, backed up her comp, then did a high-security reformat and rewrite on the memory, erasing every shred of information, and writing over it with meaningless data. She carefully disassembled one lamp that had a hidden compartment in it, and left it lying on the dining room table. A thorough search would trash her apartment, but perhaps she could convince them that there was nothing here to search for. She had cleaned up after several such searches before, and she didn’t want to have to do it again.

She was almost finished packing when Dr. Saari called back.

Analin told her what she had learned so far.

“At least Survey isn’t behind this,” Juna said when she was done. “That’s something. Thank you.”

“Call me at the same time in two days,” Analin said. “I should know a lot more by then.” She glanced past Juna to Moki. “I’m doing everything I can to get you out as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” Moki said. “I appreciate what you’re doing for us, Ms. Goudrian.”

“Please, call me Analin,” she said. “And it is my pleasure. I never thought I would get to meet you, even over the cornra.”

Analin shook her head in wonder after they signed off. These two had handed her the story of the year, and yet they were grateful to her!

She turned the comm off, and packed the last few items. Then she put the trunk and a laundry bag full of pillows and dirty clothes onto her luggage cart, swung on her backpack, and left. She shipped the trunk via slow freight to her uncle in Canada, with instructions to contact her when it arrived. The pillows got dropped off at the laundry, where they would be safe from searchers with knives. She was still finding feathers from the last time someone searched her place. Then she tightened the straps on her backpack, and headed for the train station.

She spent the night hopping around Frankfurt, calling her contacts in the CCD. Then, around four in the morning, she took the train to Paris, and checked her messages in an all-night net cafe. One of her CCD contacts came through with a name: General Alice Burnham. On the train to Lyon, she did some digging. She got off the train in Dijon, and caught a train to Bern. In Bern, she contacted a net pirate she knew about from a friend.

He was a burly man with a grizzled red beard, who went by the name Morgan. They met in a cafe.

“Are you Morgan?”

“You Goudrian?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, Brinker sent me.”

Morgan drained the last of his thick Turkish coffee. “Were you followed?” he asked.

“Not that I could see, but— ” She spread her hands and shrugged. “The world’s a big place, yes?”

“Come on, then,” he said. He motioned to the big, bald-headed man with the enormous black handlebar mustache behind the counter. The man nodded and opened a door at the back of the cafe\ Analin went through onto a landing at the top of a dark staircase. Morgan took her hand, and they carefully descended the dark stairs and went through a door that opened onto a parking garage.

Morgan tossed a ring of keys to the attendant. “Trieste, I think, tell Mildn to send me a red Gavotte this time. And call Ian and tell him to meet us “at the Erdbeere.”

“That way,” he told Analin, gesturing at a door. They went through the door to another garage, and then through a maze of hallways, garages, and basements, emerging finally in the lobby of a seedy apartment building. They left the building, and got into a waiting cab.

“What do you need?” he asked her, as they settled back into the cab.

“Traceless shielding on this comm unit for a few days.”

“Why not get another number?”

“I’m expecting an important call on it tomorrow evening.”

He nodded. “We’ll forward it through one of our tracer mazes. It’ll look like you’re calling from Brazil.”

“I also need a dossier on General Burnham, security head of the Space Service, including as much classified material about her connections with the CCD as you can find. And a good night’s sleep somewhere safe.”

“O.K.,” Morgan said, “but it will cost you.”

“I know. How much?”

“Fifteen thousand Swiss credits.”

Analin shook her head. “Too much. Five thousand.”

“May I remind you that you’re in no position to bargain. Burnham’s a difficult target.”

“I thought you were a professional,” Analin said, lifting her chin defiantly. She didn’t have fifteen thousand credits. Eleven would wipe her out, but this story would earn it back several times over.

“One of the best,” he said. “That’s what you’re paying for. Twelve thousand.”

“Six.”

’Ten.”

“Seven.”

’This problem intrigues me. I’ll go as low as eight and a half.”

“Eight and a half,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation. It was a good price, for what he was offering, but it would not do to appear too eager. “But I get one more follow-up report.”

“All right,” he said. They linked wrist comps, typed in their access codes, and completed the transaction. The money would remain in escrow until Analin confirmed that the work had been done.

The deal made, Morgan leaned forward and said something in Swiss to the driver about a hotel. The cab turned and sped to an anonymous-looking pension.

“I’ll be back in eight hours with a preliminary report,” Morgan told her when she was safely in her room. “Sleep well.”

Analin nodded. As soon as he was gone, she shucked her clothes, showered, climbed into bed, and let sleep take her.

She was awakened by a knock on the door. Groggily, she got up, shrugged on the rumpled clothes she’d cast off the night before, and peered out the security peephole. It was Morgan, carrying a paper bag and a fat manila envelope.

She opened the door.

“Breakfast, and your report, Ms. Goudrian. May I say that it is utterly fascinating reading?” Morgan announced as he strode in. He set the paper bag down on the table and took out a breakfast pie and a large container of coffee. The smell of hot pastry made Analin’s mouth water. It had been twelve hours since her last meal. She glanced from the envelope to the breakfast pie and coffee, torn between hunger and her desire to read the report.

“I’ll summarize the contents of the report while you eat,” Morgan said. “Your General Burnham is a most interesting person. She’s a hard-line Expansionist, and a professional paranoid. She’s part of a clique of highly placed Expansionists in the Space Service. Burnham has official ties to HumanSpace, and the Terraforming Foundation. Unofficially, she has ties to several pronatalist groups including a couple with terrorist leanings.”

Analin nodded. “And her ties to the CCD?” she asked, taking another bite of breakfast.

“There’s a Dr. Koro, who heads the Expansionist clique at the CCD. Their affiliations have a significant overlap. Koro’s comm logs show a significant increase in calls from Burnham over the last two months, beginning about the time the Homa Darabi Maru came through the jump gate.”

“I see.” Analin pushed aside her food and flipped through the report. There was a lot there; it would take a couple of hours to study it.

“Your inquiries have stirred up a hornet’s nest,” Morgan told her. “Burnham’s people are looking for you.”

Analin shrugged. “That’s why I’m here. Are they coming close?”

“You ditched them in Dijon. It’ll take them a while to go through the train station’s security-camera files. By tomorrow, they’ll know you came to Bern.

“By tomorrow, I’ll be somewhere else,” Analin said. “I’ve done this sort of thing before.” She held out her wrist comp to signal the completion of their transaction.

But before she left, she needed to start work on the article she would post on the Web. She went over Burn-ham’s dossier, pulling out the evidence she needed. Then she dove back into the net, digging out more information on the CCD and Dr. Koro. All she needed were a few more quotes from Juna and Moki and she would be ready to file. She shook her head, marveling at the stroke of good fortune that had moved Juna to contact her instead of some other net reporter.

Juna sat back, mulling over what Analin had just told them.

“Analin, why don’t the Expansionists like us?” Moki asked.

“They have nothing against you or Ukatonen specifically,” Analin told him. “They’re isolationists, and the idea of aliens out there scares them. They want the universe to themselves.”

“But why are they afraid of us?” Moki asked.

“Because you’re not human,” Juna explained. “Because you’re different.” She turned back to the comm screen. “What are the Expansionists saying about the Tendu?” she asked Analin.

“About what you would expect. The Tendu are dangerous, and they may be diseased. They’re also spreading horror stories about how the Tendu turned you into something grotesque and deformed.”

“Hasn’t the Survey let them know that Ukatonen changed me back?” Juna asked.

“The Survey hasn’t said much at all about you or the Tendu, aside from the fact that you’re here and that you’re in quarantine.”

“This whole thing is so silly,” Juna complained. “The Tendu aren’t dangerous. In fact, they can help us a great deal. Their skill at healing can advance our own medical knowledge. Their knowledge of ecosystems could help us restore Earth’s environment and speed up the terraform-ing of Mars and Terra Nova. With their help, we could explore living worlds without an environment suit, perhaps even colonize them. But first, the Tendu and humanity need to get to know each other, to learn what we can do for each other. We can’t accomplish that trapped up here in quarantine.”

Analin smiled. “That was well said, Juna. May I quote you on that?”

Juna shrugged, embarrassed and flattered. “Sure, if it will help you get us out of here.”

“I hope so,” Analin said. “I should have my article finished and on-line in a few more hours.”

Juna swallowed, her throat suddenly dry with nervousness. This had passed beyond her control now. “Oh,” she managed to say.

Analin leaned forward, toward the comm screen. “Juna, I’m on your side. They’re illegally holding you prisoner. Besides, I’m looking forward to that exclusive interview. I can’t get that until you’re off that ship. There are no guarantees that what I write will spring you, but at the very least it should cause a major scandal. Burnham and the others will be too busy covering their tracks to keep you and the Tendu bottled up much longer.”

Juna felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. “Thank you, Analin. I know you’ll do yoor best.”

Analin nodded, suddenly shy. “Check this address in two hours. I’ll have a copy of the story there for you to download. The article should be on the net in four hours.”

“Good luck,” Juna said.

“Thanks,” Analin replied.

Analin was as good as her word. The file was waiting for Juna two hours later.

“Dear Juna and Moki,” it began.

“Here is the story. I hope it helps spring you. I’m sorry I’m not available for you to talk to. Given the sensitivity of this news, I think it’s better for me to be a moving target for a few days. Good luck!— Analin Goudrian”

“Well,” Juna commented, “I think it’s a good article.”

“I don’t understand, siti,” Moki said. “Why can General Burnham keep us here?”

“Because the people in charge gave her the authority to do so, bai. If we’re lucky, this article will embarrass her so much that she has to release us.”

“Will she decide to die?” Moki asked.

“No, bai, she’s not an enkar.”

“Then why is she running things?”

“Because the people in charge trusted her to do a good job.”

“Are they enkar? Will they die?”

“No bai. It doesn’t work like that here.”

Juna had tried several times to explain human politics and the concept of democracy to the Tendu, but they always ended up bewildered. “All the humans get together and decide who will run things. This process is known as an election.”

“But none of them are enkar?”

“No, bai. We have no enkar. If they do a bad job, we don’t elect them again.”

Moki shook his head. “How can you trust them?”

Juna shrugged. “We don’t, bai. We watch them all the time, to make sure they don’t make mistakes. Analin is one of the people whose atwa it is to watch our leaders, and to tell us when a mistake is made. That is why she is helping us now.”

“It seems like a bad way to run things.”

“Perhaps, bai, but it works for us.”

“Dr. Saari, I just received an irate call from General Burn-ham’s office. They claim that you breached security. There’s also been an inquiry from the union, based on statements that they claim you made. Would you please explain this?” Commander Sussman said.

Juna handed her a printout of Analin’s article. “This will explain everything, Commander.”

The commander read the article, her face carefully impassive.

“My,” she said when she was finished. She stood, both hands resting on her desk, her blue eyes fixed on Juna. “What the hell were you thinking of, Dr. Saari?”

“You wanted me to figure out some way of getting us off this ship,” Juna said. “This is what I came up with.”

“You defined that suggestion pretty broadly.”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“I’m going to log an official reprimand on your record. By rights, I should have you thrown in the brig, but given the circumstances I’d say that being stuck in quarantine is discipline enough.”

“Yes, ma’am. I apologize, ma’am.”

“You’ve taken an awful risk. You know that you could wind up court-martialed for this?”

“Yes, ma’am, I know that. And, Commander Sussman, I want to formally state that this was entirely my own idea. No one on board helped me in any way.”

“Of course,” the commander said skeptically. “However, that will not save my ass or the ass of anyone who was supposed to have the power to stop you. I don’t know if you thought of that before you launched this crazy scheme of yours.”

Juna stared at the floor, her face hot with shame. “No, ma’am, I did not.”

“Thank you, Dr. Saari. That is all I have to say to you at this time,” Commander Sussman said stiffly. “Dismissed.”

The Survey shut down all the comm channels. Only the commander could call out or receive calls. Morale plummeted. Some of the crew began pointedly avoiding Juna and Moki.

Five days later, Commander Sussman called a general meeting of the entire crew.

“Due to the controversy surrounding the recent news report about the quarantine, the union has expressed concerns about conditions aboard ship,” she began, carefully avoiding Juna’s gaze. “An inspection team from the union will be coming aboard tomorrow. We are expected to assist them in their investigation.”

A murmur of excitement passed through the assembled crew. Juna’s heart soared like a white-winged bird. Analin had come through for them. This was their chance to get out of quarantine!

Sussman waited until the murmuring died down. “We’ve been through some pretty difficult times these past few weeks. I’m sure many of you have statements to make to the union representatives. I want to remind you that all claims made to the union must be provable. Rumors and opinions will only weaken our case. If any of you have any formal protests to file, please get your proof ready to present.

“I want to thank all of you for your very hard work. The ship looks as if it was newly commissioned. While I haven’t done any inspection of your personal quarters, I expect they’ll look as good as the rest of the ship.”

The crew smiled good-naturedly at the commander’s veiled order.

“If any of you have any questions about how to file a protest, you should ask your union shop-stewards. Any other questions should be directed to your staff officers. Thank you all very much for your patience and hard work during this quarantine. I’m proud of you.” She gave them a stiffly correct military salute. “Dismissed.”

As Juna filed out with Moki, Dr. Caisson intercepted her.

“The commander would like a word with you in her office, if you have a moment.”

“Thank you, Doctor, please tell her that I will be there.”

Commander Sussman stood as Juna came into her office. “Congratulations, Dr. Saari. That article stirred up quite a controversy. I’ve been catching all kinds of official hell for this.” The commander frowned ruefully.

“I’m sorry,” Juna apologized.

“I’m not,” Commander Sussman said bluntly. “This is my ship and my crew, and we’ve been treated very badly for the sake of the Expansionists’ political convenience. This quarantine was absolutely inexcusable. I hope the union kicks the Survey’s ass.” She paused, smiling ironically. “I didn’t invite you here for a tirade, Doctor. I wanted to apologize for losing my temper last week.”

Juna shrugged. “I’m sorry you were involved. I took an inexcusable risk with you and your crew.”

“Well, it got results,” Sussman admitted. “Have you given any thought to what you’re going to say to the union officials?”

“I don’t really know what they’re going to ask,” Juna replied.

“They’re probably going to focus much of their attention on you and the aliens. Legally, I can’t advise you on what to say, but I do urge you to be prepared to make the best case you can. If this doesn’t work— ”

Juna nodded. “There’s a lot at stake. I’ll do my best, ma’am, for you and all the crew, as well as for the Tendu.”

The commander looked straight at her. For a moment, her mask slipped, and Juna could see the toll that this quarantine had taken on her.

“Thank you, Juna. Let’s hope this works.”

Juna was there with Moki, Commander Sussman, Dr. Caisson, and First Mate Vargo when the e-suited inspection team came aboard with their security escort.

The leader of the team approached Juna, hand outstretched in greeting. “Dr. Saari, I presume? I’m Mark Manning, president of ISEWU,” tie said, shaking her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you. And is this Moki?” Manning sounded hoarse and a bit out of breath.

Juna nodded and introduced him to her bami. She watched as Manning turned to greet the ship’s officers. The president of the union had come for this inspection. They must be taking this very seriously indeed.

The introductions over, Manning turned to Sussman.

“Commander Sussman, before we interview the crew we’d like to see the ship, and speak with your medical officer.”

“Of course, Mr. Manning. This way please.”

They showed Manning and the other union representatives around the ship. Manning watched attentively and occasionally murmured remarks into his suit recorder.

“Dr. Caisson, I understand that you used to work at the Center for Contagious Diseases.”

“Yes, Mr. Manning. I was the head researcher in their xenomicrobiology department, before requesting a posting here on the Homa Darabi. I wanted a chance to conduct more research in the field.”

“Louise’s experience in xenobiology was one of the reasons that we were selected to go to Tiangi,” Commander Sussman explained.

“I see. That’s very interesting. And since the Tendu arrived, there’s been no illness on board ship?”

“None at all. We followed careful decontamination procedures, and there were very few pathogens on board when we left Earth. There were a few colds on the way out, but nothing at all on the way back.”

“Mm-mhm. I see. Would it be possible to meet the other Tendu now?” he asked.

“Of course, Mr. Sussman,” Juna said. “This way.”

The group followed Juna into the garden where Ukato-nen was sleeping, hooked up to an array of beeping medical monitors.

“This is a voluntary state?” Manning asked Moki.

“He decided to go to sleep and wait until we were let out of the ship,” Moki agreed.

“He’s all right otherwise?”

Moki nodded. “He just needs to be some place with trees and plants.”

“Dr. Caisson,” Manning asked, “have you found any organic cause for Ukatonen’s condition?”

“No,” the medical officer replied. “I’ve been monitoring Ukatonen ever since he went to sleep. I ran extensive blood tests, and aside from being a bit underweight, he seems healthy. He is in quite a remarkable state. His entire metabolism is running much slower than usual, but otherwise he appears normal. His brain seems to be deeply asleep. Moki feeds him and filters wastes out of his system via his spurs. If we could replicate this state of stasis, we could drastically cut the cost of space travel. We wouldn’t need to feed and amuse our passengers. Think what it would mean for transporting colonists to Terra Nova, or even Mars.”

“Are you sure that you’re not an Expansionist, Dr. Caisson?”

The doctor raised her eyebrows. “I’m not paranoid or bigoted enough to be an Expansionist,” she replied.

Juna saw Commander Sussman smile at that remark.

“I see,” Manning said once again. “Well, I’m convinced that there’s nothing wrong with the Tendu.”

He reached up and undogged his helmet.

“What are you doing!” the security escort shouted, reaching for Manning as he lifted his helmet off and shook loose his lion’s mane of fiery red hair.

“Violating quarantine,” Manning said in an amused tone of voice. “I’d let go of my arm if I were you. Roughing up the president of ISEWU wouldn’t be a good idea. The crew of the Homa Darabi Maru needs an on-site union observer to ensure that their rights aren’t being violated. Given the situation, it wouldn’t be right to ask a subordinate to risk violating quarantine, so I’m volunteering for the job.”

Juna’s eyebrows rose in astonishment and admiration.

Manning coughed several times, “And if this unreasonable quarantine is not lifted within five days, I will go on a hunger strike,” he continued in his reasonable, slightly breathless tone of voice, as though he were explaining this to a small child. “If the quarantine continues for more than ten days, I will urge all our union members to show solidarity with their fellow workers aboard the Homa Darabi Maru by declaring a general strike.”

Matters moved fairly quickly after that. Manning had brought along a small portable IR transmitter that he rigged to the ship’s antenna. He began broadcasting the union’s demands and taking part in the negotiations for their release from quarantine. Communications were restored to the ship as a whole within hours of Manning’s violation of quarantine.

Juna was besieged by requests for interviews from the press. She issued a brief statement, explaining the situation, reassuring people that the Tendu posed no health risk, and pleading for a quick release from quarantine. When she was done recording her statement, Moki touched her arm.

“Siti, can I say something to your people? I know that Ukatonen would want to if he was awake.”

Juna smiled. “Thank you, Moki. That would be wonderful.”

Moki stood in front of the recording camera. “Hello,” he said, speaking simultaneously in formal Tendu skin speech and verbal Standard. “My name is Moki, and I am a Tendu. I greet you on behalf of my people, and for Uka-tonen, who cannot speak to you today. His sickness is nothing that affects humans. He will be well as soon as we are in a natural environment. We’re looking forward to seeing your world and learning more about you. We hope that the Tendu and the humans achieve harmony together. Thank you.”

Watching her bami, Juna felt a surge of pride. He was a little awkward, but he spoke with the undeniable authority of someone who spoke from the heart. His words would help ease people’s fear of the Tendu.

“Was it okay?” Moki asked when the camera was turned off.

“It was fine,” Juna assured him. “Just fine.”

“You did well, both of you,” said someone at Juna’s side.

She looked up. It was Mr. Manning.

“Thank you,” Juna said. “And thanks for the risk you took, breaking quarantine.”

“It wasn’t much of a risk. No one was sick,” Manning said with a shrug. He sat down and took out an inhaler. “Excuse me, but I have bad lungs. Decompression burn. My suit got torn by flying debris while I was trying to patch a badly holed habitat. At least I got the hole patched.”

“You take a lot of risks,” Juna remarked.

“Somebody’s got to,” he said, looking at her levelly. “Otherwise everyone who works out in space would get screwed. The union went to bat for me when I got injured. I’m just carrying on the tradition.”

“Well,” Juna said, feeling a little awkward in the face of such commitment. “I wish it wasn’t necessary. If I’d stayed on Tiangi instead of coming home …” She left the rest unsaid.

“Juna, this is the Expansionists’ fault, not yours. It should be over soon,” Manning reassured her. “Thanks to Ms. Goudrian, the media is all over Burnham and the Survey. Burnham can’t take that kind of pressure, not in the middie of the appropriations debate. It’s a pity,” he noted, glancing down at his stomach. “I was kind of looking forward to a hunger strike. I need to lose some weight.”

“Can I see what’s wrong with your lungs?” Moki asked, when the technicians had left them alone in the room.

“All the damage is inside, Moki. There’s nothing to see.”

“That wasn’t what he meant,” Juna explained. “He wants to link with you, and see if he can heal your lungs.”

“Do you think he can?”

“The Tendu can do a lot. But there’s no guarantee. And linking can be overwhelming and a little frightening if you’re not used to it.”

Manning hesitated.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Juna said.

“Do you really think Moki can’heal me?” he asked again.

“When we were negotiating with the Tendu one of our negotiators had a massive heart attack, out in the middle of the jungle. The Tendu saved his life. The doctors who examined the man after the Tendu healed him, said that his heart was as healthy as that of a twenty-year-old. I’ve seen Tendu regrow severed limbs. And then there was what they did to me.”

“But Moki is just a child,” Manning pointed out. “Does he have the experience to do this?”

“Moki is thirty-four years old. And he’s been learning from one of the best healers on Tiangi.”

“And Juna will be monitoring me,” Moki added.

“I’ve felt like a fish out of water every day for the last ten years,” Manning said, looking thoughtfully down at Moki. “And if you say that he can heal me, then I’m willing to try it. What do I do?”

“Roll up your sleeves, and hold out your arms,” Juna directed.

Moki pulled his chair a little closer to Manning, and grasped his outstretched arm. Juna grasped Moki’s other arm.

They linked. Juna could taste the flat acidity of insufficiently oxygenated blood, felt the leathery scars of decompression burn on the inside of Manning’s lungs. She felt the bright, tart taste of Manning’s fear, and enfolded him in reassurance. When he was calm again, Moki set to work clearing away the scarring that kept Manning’s lungs from fully expanding. Then he triggered the growth of fresh new tissue in the damaged parts of his lungs. That done, the bami scanned the rest of Manning’s body for more subtle damage.

Moki had learned a lot from Ukatonen. He tired much less easily now than he had back on Tiangi. He managed to repair a damaged shoulder joint and cleared most of the plaque from the inside of Manning’s major arteries before Juna broke the link. She would have to tell Ukatonen how much Moki had improved.

Manning awoke. Cautiously, he took a breath, then another, deeper one. “It doesn’t hurt!” he said wonderingly. “I can take a deep breath and it doesn’t hurt!” His voice sounded smoother, all traces of the previous hoarseness gone.

“Your lungs will improve as more new tissue grows back,” Moki told him. “It’ll take a week or so before it’s done. Eat lots of meat and vegetables. Get plenty of sleep. Your body will be working hard.”

Manning took Moki’s hand in his. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for trying to get us out of here,” the Tendu said.

“It’s my job,” Manning replied.

“And healing is part of what I do,” Moki said. “We have achieved harmony.”

Manning returned to the negotiations with a vigor and energy that amazed his opponents. A day later, word came that the quarantine would be lifted the next day. Joy swept through the ship. The crew cheered, embraced one another, and then hurried off to pack.

Ukatonen was swimming deep below the surface of the sea, the waters dark and murky. The faint shadows of fish flickered away from him as he swam. The water was thick with the taste of life. He swam through a curtain of millions of tiny plants and animals, living, breeding, dying, and being born. It was cold and dark, but reassuring to be surrounded by so much life, even here in the depths.

Suddenly a brilliant beam of light cut down through the water, and he was surrounded by the sweet taste of joy. A presence swam with him, a familiar one. He turned and followed it up, up out of the depths into the sunlit shallows. As the dream grew brighter, he recognized the presence. It was Moki. He emerged from the link, opening his eyes.

He remembered where he was, and why he was asleep.

’The quarantine?”

“They’re letting us out tomorrow.”

Leaf mold flaked and crumbled off Ukatonen’s body as he slowly sat up, still a little dazed from so much sleep.

“Here, en.” Moki handed him* a hot bowl of soup. “Eat this, it will help.”

He could feel himself settling back into consciousness as he ate the soup, as though he had been shattered and the soup was gluing him back together.

Finished, he handed the bowl to Moki and stood, brushing away as much of the remaining leaf mold as he could. He washed off the rest underneath a hose, oblivious of the stares of the humans. Then, still wet, he climbed into a pair of shorts and followed Moki back to their cabin.

Eerin had prepared a feast of fresh vegetables, fruit, and even some raw fish and chicken, all arranged on clean, fresh leaves from the garden. There was also a small gourd filled with Earth honey. It was clear that she had taken pains to make the meal as much like a Tendu feast as she could. While he ate, they told him everything that had happened while he was asleep.

After the meal, Ukatonen went out for a final walk around the ship. It was awash in celebration as the humans said goodbye to each other. He felt a little lonely as he watched the humans rejoice in their hard-won freedom. They were celebrating a homecoming, and he was leaving for an unknown world.

A yellow flicker of irritation forked down the inside of Ukatonen’s arm. He was an enkar; he should be used to leave-takings. After all, he had spent hundreds of years traveling from one place to another. The handful of years he would spend here would be barely an eye blink. Yet he had already been overwhelmed by the humans’ difference. Even Moki, a mere bami, had dealt with the changes better than he had. If he hadn’t gotten greensick, the humans would not have had the excuse to keep them locked up in here. Ukatonen turned deep brown with shame as he thought of how weak he had been on the journey here. He would have to do better from here on out, he told himself.

Moki touched him on the arm. He looked down. The bami held his spurs out, requesting a link. Ukatonen looked at the crowd of humans laughing and talking with each other in the lounge. “Let’s go to the garden,” he said in skin speech. ^’It’s quieter there.”

The garden was deserted except for a couple of humans who were more intent on each other than their surroundings. The garden looked a little tired. Many of the plants they had grown were going to seed, or had gotten lank and tired-looking. The sunflowers in the circle were going dry and brown as the seeds in their big flower heads ripened.

“It’ll be good to see real trees again,” Moki said.

Ukatonen nodded, and they sat in silence a while longer, taking comfort in each other and the garden. It was easier to take comfort here now that Ukatonen knew they would be leaving it behind.

“I’ll miss this place,” Moki remarked. “We worked hard here.”

“There will be other places,” Ukatonen told him. “You have done good work here, and it is time to move on. That is one of the things you’ll have to learn in order to become a good enkar.”

“An enkar? En, I am much too young for such things.”

“Nevertheless, someday you will become one. I allowed Eerin to adopt you for a reason. We need to understand the humans, and that is your job. You must pay attention to the humans, Moki. You must come to understand them so well that they do not surprise you. One day humans will be your atwa. You will be responsible to them and for them. They must be brought into harmony.”

“I can’t do that, en. Humans are not like the Tendu. Besides, there are many humans, and I am only one person. I cannot change them all.”

“If the humans and the Tendu do not achieve harmony, both will suffer,” Ukatonen informed him. He touched Moki on the shoulder. “And you are not alone. The other enkar will help you. But we need to know more about the humans before we can bring them into harmony. That is why we are here. That is why Eerin is your sitik.” He looked directly into Moki’s golden eyes. “You must never forget that. One day you will be an enkar, and then nothing must matter to you but the good of the Tendu. Do you understand?”

“Yes, en, I understand,” Moki said in formal skin speech. He held his arms out for allu-a.

Ukatonen grasped Moki’s forearms and they linked. The bami’s presence was muddy and roiling with doubt. Ukatonen enfolded him with reassurance and approval. Moki’s turmoil gradually eased, and they achieved a harmonious equilibrium, though Ukatonen could still sense the faint muddy tinge of doubt remaining in Moki.

It was no matter, the bami would learn. Already Moki had the makings of an exceptional elder. With Ukatonen’s guidance, Moki would then become an outstanding enkar. All that was needed was time and patience, and Moki would find his way as surely as a stream finds its way to the ocean.

Moki breathed deeply and regularly, his body at rest. Outwardly he seemed sound asleep, but he was awake, and deeply troubled by Ukatonen’s words. It disturbed him to see his future laid out so neatly by someone else. He was coming to prefer the humans’ way of letting each person decide their own future.

Besides, he didn’t think that it was possible to bring the humans into harmony with the Tendu, and even if he could, he wasn’t sure that he should. He liked the humans the way they were.

Juna lay awake beside Bruce, too excited to sleep. Tomorrow she would be off the ship, and free. Then life would get complicated. She knew that she should be organizing some kind of diplomatic mission for the Tendu, and dealing with the requests for interviews and research that had already begun pouring in, but first she needed to see her family. First thing tomorrow she would put in for leave. It was nearly harvest time and they would need her. And then there was Toivo . … Juna pulled the sheet a little higher, and turned onto her side, trying to quell her rising emotions.

Tomorrow, she told herself firmly. Get some sleep and think about all of this tomorrow. She slid closer to Bruce, savoring his warmth. Though it was clear that they were too different to make a lasting pair, he had been good company. Good in bed, too, she thought with a smile. She would miss him. She slid into sleep, amid a haze of fond memories.